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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750070">But This Time I Am Awake, Released</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwallscouldspeak/pseuds/ifwallscouldspeak'>ifwallscouldspeak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (France)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(more or less), Alternative Point of View, Bullying, Canon Compliant, F/M, Judith Redemption Squad, Racism, Underage Smoking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:29:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwallscouldspeak/pseuds/ifwallscouldspeak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At the time, Judith didn’t feel relief nor vindication nor sorrow at her own actions. It was all of them and none of them. The thing was… she didn’t want to be like them. She always swore she would never be like them. But now... she doesn’t know how to be herself, either. She doesn’t even know who she is, but she knows that’s something they took from her. </p><p>(A Judith POV fic that delves deeper into her actions, her anger, and her mission to start healing from it all.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Judith &amp; Lola Lecomte, Judith/Aurélien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>But This Time I Am Awake, Released</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Judith defense squad, where y'all at?</p><p>So first, I've only watched clips with Judith and Lola in them this season LMAO but tried my best to make sure this was as canon compliant as possible. This first clip takes place sometime between Aurélien announcing he was Moïra's father in the park and that weird party at Qing. (I found out they're not in school or whatever during that time after I wrote this, so just suspend disbelief here.) </p><p>But anyway... I really just think it's funny how the Skamfr team wanted to give Tiff ~more depth~ and explore the ~complexities~ of being a white, wealthy teenage bully and then literally use horror movie music to villainize a Black teenage girl... so I started writing this fic because I think Judith is a much more interesting character than half the cast and was curious about her motivations and her past. I definitely think anger is one of them. I wanted to explore that in a way that didn't blame her for it, but allowed her to not only be petty and be angry, and also to acknowledge anger isn't necessarily bad. </p><p>This may or may not turn into a larger work centering Judith. I will say I have a lot of ideas percolating. </p><p>This was heavily influenced by Audre Lorde's essay <a href="https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/speeches-african-american-history/1981-audre-lorde-uses-anger-women-responding-racism/">"The Uses of Anger."</a> The title comes from an Audre Lorde poem titled <a href="https://ir.uiowa.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2734&amp;context=iowareview">"A Poem for Women in Rage"</a>: </p><p>
  <i>Gears of ancient nightmare churn <br/>swift in familiar dread and silence <br/>but this time I am awake, released<br/>I smile. Now. This time is <br/>my turn. </i>
</p><p>As always, all All grammar, spelling and syntax errors are mine and mine alone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>+++</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Judith is an absolutely exceptional student. She often fools around on her phone or doodles in the margins instead of paying attention. Maybe she’s fallen asleep in class on occasion. But - and this is the most important part - she never does anything that will actively bother anyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, of course, she tries her best not to be a complete asshole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why else do you think all of the Kardashians have such pretty babies?” Anaïs asks somewhere behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not whispering, not asking softly, Judith thinks with a glare. Just asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louise giggles. “Anaïs! You can’t just say stuff like that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Judith’s experience, Anaïs often says whatever she wants, whenever she wants, so she isn’t sure why Louise is pretending to be so shocked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying,” Anaïs says. “And she’s totally taking to this motherhood thing like a champ. Like with everything she does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith rolls her eyes and tries to focus on their teacher, Mr. Hubert, at the front of the board. He’s talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Count of Monte Cristo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the way that it was originally serialized, not published all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imagine if you had to wait once a week for, I don’t know, your favorite TikTok star to upload the next part of a very long, very involved story about revenge, romance, and forgiveness,” he’s saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think they’ll get back together though?” Louise asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he does,” Anaïs says. “Who wouldn’t? Especially compared to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stops short, breaking out into titters. Judith can hear the flutter of a hand slapping against a cotton shirt lightly; it’s most likely Louise, pretending to be appalled by what Anaïs is saying. Judith tries her best to take a deep breath and keep her eyes focused on their teacher. She learned long ago that the best way to handle these two - usually these three - is to pretend like she has turned to stone. No reactions, no movements, barely even breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And okay. Sometimes she can’t help herself, so she snaps back. Just like in the bathroom, with Tiff, all those weeks ago. There was something inside her - just seeing the girl who could just lie so easily, try to manipulate people so easily - and she just couldn’t take it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this was the advice that her mother gave her years ago for dealing with mean girls, and it usually worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, of course she has other options,” Anaïs says. “But Aurélien is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Louise says. “Smart, hot, athletic. The kind of guy you want to settle down with. Even if we’re only sixteen that’s something you really have to consider.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. Plus, you know, we already know he makes pretty babies!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but of course that has to do as much with the mother…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith can feel her hands shaking as they slightly hover over her notebook. She gently presses them flat into the paper, trying to focus on the feel of the sheet against the palms of her hands. There are only a few minutes left of class anyway, and they are horrible girls anyway, and it shouldn’t matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, telling herself that it doesn’t matter really doesn’t help anything at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, especially because you want to make sure your baby has manageable hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith whirls around, glaring at the two girls. Anaïs is already staring back at her, an eyebrow slightly arched like she was expecting it the whole time. Louise at least has the decency to look cowed. Or so Judith thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something we can help you with?” Louise asks snottily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you can shut the fuck up,” Judith seethes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t mean for it to come out so loudly, but the ensuing silence throughout the classroom is her first indication that she had practically shouted it. Louise looks like she’s trying very hard not to let a smile blossom onto her face, while Anaïs is doing a pretty good job of looking shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Cohen,” Mr. Hubert says from the front of the room. “I don’t know what the issue is here, but we do not use that kind of language in this class. Apologize immediately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith feels herself cracking, like hairline fractures through a porcelain cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The issue is these two can’t stop talking during the entire class, but when I ask them to stop, suddenly I’m the one who has to apologize?” Judith asks, voice rising with each word. “No, I think they should apologize to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Hubert, we weren’t doing anything but taking notes, I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything,” Anaïs pipes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith snaps back around to look into her smug face. “You’re so full of it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Cohen -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, these two girls are sitting here saying racist things, and I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend like it’s okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears Louise gasp. “Racist! Mr. Hubert, I don’t know why Judith is picking on us, just because of something she thought she heard, but we were literally just sitting here and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Hubert sighs, holding up his hand. Louise stops in the middle of her diatribe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girls - whatever the issue is -” He shakes his head. “You know - everyone else, dismissed, please. Ms. Cohen, wait here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low, insistent buzzing drones in Judith’s ears; she can barely see straight as she watches her classmates pack up for the day. A few people shoot her sympathetic looks, while some snicker. She feels a hard jab in her shoulder as Anaïs walks by her. It takes everything in Judith not to stand up and yank her back down by her ponytail and ask, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what were you saying about being manageable? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after everyone has cleared out of the classroom, Judith stays in her seat, sulking. Mr. Hubert sighs again, taking his glasses off and wiping them with a handkerchief. She stares at his brown, wrinkled hands as he does so. She crosses her arms over her chest. When Mr. Hubert is done, he puts his glasses back on his face and stares at Judith. She stares back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Cohen....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops, seeming to slouch heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it may be difficult to… hear things that are unkind -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those two girls are more than just ‘unkind,’ Judith snaps. “They - they think they can do whatever, whenever, and I’m sick of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly it’s like she was back in the bathroom, staring into Tiff’s face as words spill out of her mouth. She could feel the years of pent-up anger, fear, and loneliness seeping out of her, like puss coming out of a wound that didn’t heal correctly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares off as Mr. Hubert, replaying the mean things she said to Tiff over and over again, her emotions at war. At the time, Judith didn’t feel relief nor vindication nor sorrow at her own actions. It was all of them and none of them. The thing was… she didn’t want to be like them. She always swore she would never be like them. But now... she doesn’t know how to be herself, either. She doesn’t even know who she is, but she knows that’s something they took from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Hubert’s voice brings her back to the classroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know that Alexandre Dumas was a Black man?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith can’t think of anything to say besides, “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Hubert nods. “He was of mixed ancestry. And there’s a story… about a French nobleman who asked him, ‘and who exactly is your father?’” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith blinks in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Mr. Dumas stared at him and responded, ‘My father was a creole, his father a Negro, and his father a monkey; my family, it seems, begins where yours left off.’” Mr. Hubert smiles, though there didn’t seem to be any humor behind it. “Never let it be said that he didn’t have a sharp wit and a refined air about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith askes, “So you’re saying I should’ve called Anaïs a monkey instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying, Ms. Cohen, that just because someone baits you, doesn’t mean you have to rise to it. Like Mr. Dumas… sometimes we must be the bigger person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m glad that works for you, Mr. Hubert, but I’m fucking tired of being the bigger person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Cohen -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith can’t take it anymore. “Am I suspended, or can I go?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette is already waiting for her at their new spot, the one that Basile had shown them. Barely anyone came up here, so it was the perfect place to steal a cigarette between classes. Or, as Judith had been more and more inclined to lately, the perfect place to skip classes altogether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey mama,” Antoinette says, blowing smoke behind her as Judith comes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s sitting on one of the rickety lawn chairs, a knit cap low on her head and her jacket zippered all the way up to her neck. Judith leans in to kiss her cheeks, immediately realizing that her friend is smoking something a little bit more than a plain cigarette. She clears her throat a bit, not wanting to have the smell of weed on her tongue. She takes the seat next to Antoinette, her mood as dark and the gray clouds above them. Part of her hopes that it will rain on them, just to give her another reason to be pissed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs, because she can vaguely remember the feeling of not being angry all the time. However, it feels like the kind of thing where she isn’t sure if it was something she really remembered, or if it was just a childhood story, retold so many times that she’s claimed it as her own memory anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Antoinette says, gesturing towards her spliff. “We have math next, and I can’t miss it anymore. I’d figure being high was the next best thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Judith says. “I think I have a loosie somewhere in my bag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette takes a long drag, staying quiet for a long moment. Then she tilts her head back to release the smoke towards the clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really should try to quit, anyway,” Judith says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette adjusts her glasses. “Did you really tell Mr. Hubert to go fuck himself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith groans; for a brief moment, she wonders what it would be like to have a best friend with a bit more tact. Antoinette waits patiently, blinking at her owlishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Judith says. “Who told you that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who else? I heard those girls talking about it. Apparently you also called them racist in front of everyone, even though you know that they attended the BLM protests this summer,” Antoinette says, placing a heavy emphasis on ‘know.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith doesn’t have to ask who exactly ‘those girls’ are; she and Antoinette have had similar enough conversations in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me calling them racist was true,” Judith says. “Though of course I ended up being the only one who had to stay behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Typical.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were just… you know how they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And talking about Tiff and Aurélien. Making cracks about my hair and mixed babies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette makes a face. “They’re so gross.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it,” Judith says. “I just - ugh. I can’t even think about it, but I will never understand why Aurélien ever liked her. She’s so fake. And now she’s running around the school like a martyr or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette widens her eyes and adopts a tone of faux surprise. “But don’t you know, Judith? She’s completely changed! Having a baby has made her a kinder, more caring, and less evil person!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith cackles, even as her heart thuds painfully at Antoinette’s not-so-accurate imitation of Aurélien. She also feels a pang of a guilty conscience. Not only about her role in deleting what turned out to be a truthful message, but in the bitterness that keeps flaring up every time she thinks of him defending Tiff. She’s trying not to be cruel about the baby; she knows what it means to him to not be like his father. As surprised as she was to find out that the baby actually existed, she knows she had to try her best to support him. Because otherwise… she will probably lose him altogether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she just can’t understand what exactly wanting to do right by the little one has to do with him actively acting like Tiff is some kind of saint. As if her deciding to keep a baby no one knew about suddenly means she’s a good person. As if it erases everything she did in the past or makes it okay that her friends continue to hurt people. It hurt, hearing Aurélien so staunchly and earnestly sing Tiff’s praises about how brave she is and how he knows he needs to do better. Judith bitterly thinks that teen girls have babies every day. It’s not like Tiff’s done anything special. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, she’s jealous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith can admit that to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just that even before all of this, Aurélien always made the effort to try and defend Tiff. To try and tell Judith that Tiff might be going through something that’s really painful, so of course she acts out. No matter how much Judith would argue that that didn’t excuse the way she turned around and hurt other people, Aurélien never seemed to get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That fucking sucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still sucks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it means having a boyfriend that she loves so much, but who never quite seems ready to comfort her if it means condemning Tiff. Before the baby, Judith thought she could handle it. She knew that Aurélien loved her back. She just thought that with a little time, with a little space… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so sick,” Judith says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pussy game must’ve been off the charts,” Antoinette says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith almost falls out of her chair laughing. “Toni!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette flashes a sparkling grin at her. “I just hate seeing you so sad over this. Homegirl isn’t worth your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything about Aurélien, which Judith is grateful for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But anyway,” Judith says. “Mr. Hubert gave me a speech about how Alexandre Dumas said his grandfather was a monkey or something. I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette furrows her brow. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was supposed to be some kind of inspirational speech about not letting those girls get the best of me or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is he like that,” Antoinette groans. “I swear, he’s always trying to tell us that things aren’t that bad or to just keep a cool head or whatever. It’s so… patronizing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know!” Judith says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he only ever does it to us,” Antoinette says. “Like what, he thinks he has to be our grandfather or something? Why doesn’t he ever say anything to these white kids?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Literally,” Judith says. “If I wanted to listen to an old Black man yak about like, being the bigger person so white people will leave us alone, I’d just like. I don’t know. Go talk to my grandpa.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so messed up,” Antoinette agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stubs what’s left of her spliff out on the arm of the chair, before tucking it back into the compact she carries around her weed in. Judith watches her as she zips it back into her bag. Antoinette rolls her neck and sighs. She then checks her watch, gets up from her seat, and stretches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta go,” Antoinette says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Math,” Judith agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Judith shakes her head. “Those girls are in that class and I can’t stand it. Cover for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antoinette nods, before leaning over to kiss Judith’s cheeks. Judith breathes in through her mouth, pressing herself against her friend for just a moment. It’s a small comfort, but one that she desperately needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches as Antoinette walks away, before tilting her head back to stare at the clouds slowly creeping across the sky. Her phone dings, but she doesn’t bother to check to see who it is. If it’s Aurélien, she honestly isn’t sure she wants to talk to him right now. But if it isn’t, that would possibly make her even more upset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she sticks her hand into her bag, rummaging around for the loosie that she knows is in there. Her fingers brush against it, and she picks it up, popping the end into her mouth. She lets it dangle there as she hunts for a lighter. When a few minutes pass and she can’t find one, she curses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, this is Tiff’s fault too, Judith thinks darkly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t care that it’s irrational; she wants to be petty. She figures that she’s earned it, at least at this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wasn’t even there today,” Judith grumbles loudly, “And she still managed to ruin my fucking day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a distinctively undignified snort makes Judith jump. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scrambles out of her chair, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. She isn’t sure exactly where it came from, but it was definitely somewhere in her vicinity. She wonders if she should call out or grab a textbook from her bag as a weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can decide, the intruder reveals herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” a voice says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith spins around to see Lola Lecomte emerging from behind a small mountain of large, plastic bins. She puts her hands up apologetically, like she’s as embarrassed to be coming out as Judith is to be caught talking shit. Judith feels the heat rush to her face, wondering exactly how much Lola heard. She also wonders how much Lola will run and tell her friends. Despite what Tiff had done to her last year, Judith knows for a fact that she and Lola are friends now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Judith can even begin to fathom that one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because how does that happen? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What reason could anyone who was the  target of Tiff’s nastiness have to want to be friends with her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A mortified giggle bubbles in Judith’s throat as she remembers Antoinette’s off-color remark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amazingly, this isn’t the most awkward situation I’ve been in,” Lola says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith doesn’t know her well enough to know if Lola is grimacing or smiling. Instead of saying anything coherent, Judith just makes an affirming noise, her lips tightening around her cigarette. Lola hovers for a few minutes, before slowly walking over to Judith. She drops down in the char that Antoinette was just occupying, with one leg folded underneath her and the other one splayed widely. Judith stares at the hole in the knee of her jeans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, here,” Lola says awkwardly. “Let me get that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reaches into her leather jacket and pulls out a forest green lighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith hesitates for a moment, but then leans in towards Lola. Lola cups her hands around Judith’s cigarette, flicking the lighter so the flame emerges. It takes a moment for it to catch; Judith eyes Lola’s face suspiciously. The other girl doesn’t even look up from what she’s doing, and pulls back as soon as Judith’s cigarette is lit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith slowly sucks in. She brings her fingers to the cigarette, pulling it out of her mouth. She tilts her head up, blowing the smoke up and towards the clouds, just like Antoinette had done earlier. She hesitates for a moment, but then offers the cigarette out to Lola. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This might be really fucking weird, but she isn’t going to throw etiquette out of the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola smiles but quickly shakes her head, leaning back into her chair. The lighter disappears back into her pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t smoke,” Lola says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small snort escapes Judith’s lips. “You must be a hit at parties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola frowns at her; Judith realizes how bitchy that sounded and shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, No, I mean it,” Judith says earnestly. “You carry around a lighter, but you don’t smoke? That sounds like every smoker’s dream best friend. Always got you when you need a light, but never bumming one off of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola’s frown transforms into an easy grin. “I guess so. Though I really… just carry it out of habit. Not to make friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith shoots her a lopsided smile. “I swear I’m trying to quit, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a simple statement of fact, and Lola says it like it is. It should’ve been innocuous enough. Yet Judith knows that this is Lola’s way of letting her know that yes, she did hear everything. Somehow, that feels even worse to Judith then if it was said accusingly or rudely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith turns her face away from Lola, taking another drag of her cigarette. The silence stretches between them. Judith scopes out Lola from the corner of her eye. The other girl seems comfortable enough in the silence; she doesn’t fidget nor is she staring at Judith. She has her head tilted up slightly, staring off into space. Her hair falls down her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith doesn’t know where to go from here. She certainly knows what she wants to know, but she doesn’t think she’ll get any answers without offering an apology that she doesn’t really feel. She swallows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was messed up,” Judith says. “What I was saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s as honest as Judith is willing to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola turns her head down. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t those girls your friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith can tell from the wry look on Lola’s face that she, too, knows who ‘those girls’ are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Lola scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola meets Judith’s gaze. “It’s… complicated.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything else, and Judith somehow knows that the only complicated part of it is Tiff, really. She brings her cigarettes back to her lips again, letting the smoke fill the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, no,” Lola says. “Listen, you don’t have to worry about it. I won’t say anything. Everyone deserves to be able to vent to their friends in private.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith nods, just once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came up here to be alone,” Lola says. “I heard someone come up, and I hid. Basile told me that the principle does checks every once in a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith raises her eyebrows. “Basile told you about this place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola looks surprised in turn. “Well, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can stop herself, Judith says, “I didn’t realize you guys were friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola’s nostrils flare, just slightly. Judith is worried that was the wrong thing to say, but she realizes that Lola finds it amusing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not, really,” she says. “It’s just, he’s dating my sister. He’s kinda more like… family. You know, not close family. More like a really annoying second cousin who keeps making random comments on your Facebook posts that have nothing to do with what you’ve said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola says it so fondly that it makes Judith smile too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you mean,” Judith says. “About being alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judith winces a bit, realizing that she and Antoinette inadvertently took that from Lola.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can go,” she says. “I’ll just finish this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola gives her an incredulous look. “No girl, it’s fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settle back into silence, something that’s not quite comfortable but isn’t completely awkward, either. Judith idly wonders if she should say anything else, but for some reason, she believes Lola when she said she won’t tell anyone. She also believes Lola when she said it was complicated. Should she… offer to talk about it? It’s not like Judith doesn’t know about Lola’s history with Tiff. The entire school knows what went down. Plus, it’s not like Judith can’t commiserate, either; she too has first-hand knowledge of what it’s like for those girls to pretend to be her friend, only to make her their target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances at Lola through the corner of her eye, and immediately dismisses the idea. This isn’t an after-school special, where the two of them will just bond over a smoke - not even a smoke, since Lola definitively isn’t smoking - and become best friends. Besides, as chill as Lola seems, Judith is positive she couldn’t be friends with someone who has this… ‘complicated’ thing with Tiff. She already has that in a boyfriend, and that’s stressful enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does, however, allow herself a small gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is nice,” Judith says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lola smiles back at her; Judith believes in that, too. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p>
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